Two of a Kind
by KLMeri
Summary: Leonard's sleeping habit can be dangerous. K/M, pre-K/S/M.


**Title**: Two of a Kind  
**Author**: klmeri  
**Fandom**: Star Trek AOS  
**Pairing**: Kirk/McCoy, pre-Kirk/Spock/McCoy  
**Summary**: Leonard's sleeping habit can be dangerous.

* * *

When it starts for them, Leonard does not know. Maybe there is no particular moment, no great epiphany; maybe they have been gradually heading in this direction for a long, long time.

Jim is restless now, despite sitting still, almost frozen, at the head of the bed. To someone who has had years to learn the man's body language, his tension is apparent.

Jim must be ready for him to go, Leonard decides. A welcome overstayed, and all that.

Sliding off the bed, he reaches for his discarded clothes, saying to Jim, "Get some sleep."

There is a hush, then, "...Bones."

Leonard stills in the act of fastening his pants and turns back. He lets the inquiring lift to his eyebrow speak for him.

Jim holds Leonard's gaze only for a moment before he says, "Never mind," and glances away.

There's an odd constriction in Leonard's chest that cannot be alleviated by a sigh. Leonard moves for the door.

"See you later, Jim."

"Bones," Jim calls again, stronger in tone this time. He levels a pointed look at the forgotten tunic in Leonard's hand.

"Oh," Leonard mutters, close to being embarrassed, and dons it. Then he makes his exit.

* * *

In Leonard's dream, the door slides open to his cabin, Jim comes inside and crawls into bed with him.

It's not a dream Leonard discovers in the morning, waking to the press of his lover's back against his own.

"You could've asked," he says to sleep-tousled hair.

"Not good at asking," Jim murmurs back.

"Okay," agrees Leonard as he drapes his arm across Jim's chest.

Next time he stays at Jim's.

* * *

"Why," Jim inquiries of Leonard, "do you sleep like that?" It is early enough in alpha shift that neither of them have given thought to the day's work ahead of them.

Leonard fails to understand the nature of the criticism, let alone where it comes from. He just says, "Huh?"

Jim tugs ineffectually at the object encapsulated by Leonard's arms. "Do you need it to prop you up or something?"

Leonard considers the pillow he had confiscated as his own since he began to stay over. "No, I just like it."

"Oh." After a pause, Jim decides, "So you're a pillow-hugger."

"What?"

"A hugger of pillows." Jim's eyes lighten at the prospect of a little mischief. "Or maybe you're actually molesting it under the guise of sleeping."

Leonard feels it is entirely prudent to hit Jim with said pillow, not once but twice. He feels no remorse when the attack causes Jim to flail backwards off the bed and land on his rear on the floor.

Jim sits up, rubbing at his tailbone, and complains about abuse.

"It's not wise to antagonize a man who has an affinity for pillows," Leonard tells him.

"A pillow can't hurt me."

"It can when I smother you with it while you're sleeping."

"Oh yeah," replies Jim, who then amazingly has nothing else to say about Leonard's sleeping habits.

* * *

If Leonard is a pillow-hugger, Jim is a kicker. Leonard shakes the annoyance awake and threatens to tie his legs together.

In response, Jim mumbles something barely intelligible and rolls over to go back to sleep.

A huff comes from Leonard. "Love bites are one thing, Jim, but if I show up in Sickbay with bruises the size of your heels on my arms, you can bet my staff will drag your ass out of that captain's chair and throw you in the brig no matter what I say."

Jim's eyes pop open. "They wouldn't."

Leonard just looks at him.

"They would," Jim realizes. "Shit." He sits up. "But it's not my fault, Bones."

Leonard rubs at a sore spot on his lower back. "Considerin' they're your limbs, I'd say it is your fault."

"No, really, it isn't. It's yours!"

Leonard stops rubbing. "Wow, I must have an early onset of hearing problems... I thought you just said it was _my fault_."

Jim lifts his chin slightly. "I wouldn't be kicking you if you were holding me."

"...What?"

Jim gives the pillow under Leonard's arm a less-than-friendly look.

Leonard has to look at it too, to see if by chance it has developed an evil aura since the last time he contemplated it.

"Jim," he says in wonder, "are you jealous of a pillow?"

Jim doesn't answer that.

"I told you, I've always slept this way! Since I was little!"

Jim still doesn't say anything.

Leonard reluctantly lets go of the pillow. "All right," he concedes, mostly still uncertain, "I guess we could try it your way."

Having won the battle, Jim gives Leonard's shoulder a light slap and congratulates him with "Excellent idea, Bones!"

Leonard is reminded of why it took him so long to be swayed by Kirk's charms.

* * *

Jim isn't a bad substitute for a pillow, Leonard concludes later. He doesn't wake up feeling bereft.

But Jim isn't as chipper or smug as he should have been. It is not until Jim catches Leonard watching him that Jim gives him a reassuring smile. Then Jim walks off to the bathroom, grunting and rolling a shoulder.

They don't spend every evening together so Leonard forgets his tinge of concern once his work schedule is underway. He meets Jim for lunch on occasion, and they share news and laughter. He stops by the bridge when he has a free moment, lays a hand on the back of Jim's chair, and trades a few witty barbs with the Enterprise's resident Vulcan commander. In short, he's busy: there are ensigns to be hyposprayed, lab results to document, and life on a starship to carry on.

Nearly a week passes before Leonard and Jim have time to spend in each other's company, and towards the end of that stardate's quietest hours when they are settling down, Leonard forgoes his customary pillow and curls around Jim. He can't see Jim's face but Jim pats his arm in an acknowledging manner.

"Night, Bones," he says sleepily.

"Goodnight, Jim," Leonard replies.

They fall asleep rather quickly.

* * *

His arm is hurting. Somebody is stabbing it. And also calling his name.

Leonard comes awake with disorientation and a curse, jerking his arm into the air from an imagined sensation. Beside him, Jim suddenly makes a noise that is part whimper, part groan and rolls away. It takes a few seconds for Leonard to comprehend that his sleeping partner should not be struggling so desperately for breath.

Jim doesn't fight him when Leonard turns him over. The man appears slightly wild-eyed.

"What happened?" Leonard wants to know. He commands the room to raise the lights to seventy percent. Should he go for the medkit he stashed in the bathroom?

Jim rubs a hand across his sternum. "'S all right," he whispers, then swallows.

Leonard doesn't believe that for a second. He will retrieve the tricorder from the kit and confirm for himself whether or not Jim is okay.

To his surprise, Jim stops him from slipping out of bed by sitting up and taking a hold of his arm. As Leonard automatically winces in response to a flash of pain, Jim looks apologetic.

"Sorry, Bones."

Eyeing the red nail marks on his forearm, Leonard has a sudden sick suspicion.

"Was I hurting you?"

"No."

"You're lying."

Jim grimaces. "...Bones."

"I hurt you." Leonard takes a deep breath but still doesn't feel quite steady after he releases it. "How?"

"I guess it's my fault," Jim says. "I'm not as squishy as a pillow. Although..." He adds with a hint of his usual humor, "Being hugged to death is not a bad way to go."

Leonard needs a long minute to process that. Then he makes Jim lift up his shirt so he can inspect the damage. "I might have bruised your ribs," he argues when Jim insists that he isn't physically injured.

"I know what bruised ribs feel like, Bones. I can breathe now. That's all I wanted."

"Jim, I'm sorry."

"It's okay," Jim assures him. "Really. Can we go back to sleep now?" He tells the room to dim the lights.

They lay down but it's awkward for Leonard, who feels afraid to touch Jim and forces himself to maintain at least a hand's span of distance between them.

Jim sighs into the dark. "I'll think of something," he promises.

"You don't have to," Leonard whispers back.

He doesn't insist _you can't_. There's no point in saying that when Jim won't believe it.

* * *

A day and a half later finds Leonard cornered in his Sickbay office with Jim, who starts to say, "Bones, I think I—"

"No," Leonard interrupts him. "If this is about me nearly suffocating you to death, the answer is no."

Jim blinks. "'No' to what?"

"Just... anything. To any brilliant scheme you've concocted. I'm not doing it. I'll—" Leonard swallows hard. "—sleep in my own quarters from now on."

Jim stares at his companion as if he has grown a second head. "Bones, I think you're overreacting."

"I'm not, Jim. You hate sleeping alone, and you've got a need that I can't fulfill without putting you in danger. That makes me a poor choice for a partner." He releases the breath he has been holding. "Maybe this is not meant to work."

Jim freezes in the act of stepping away from him. "I'm going to pretend you didn't say that, especially over something so ridiculous as who holds whom. I'm a big boy, Bones—and guess what? I can be the big spoon."

"So you're okay with letting me go back to the pillow? It's not going to bother you at all? Can you swear to that?"

Jim's serious expression melts away. "Actually, that's what I came to talk to you about."

"What?"

"The pillow," Jim says brightly, like that should mean something. Then, "I have an idea."

Leonard coughs to cover his dismay.

"It's genius!" Jim goes on to say, face glowing. "I'll show you later. Tonight."

He bounds out of the office, whistling as he goes.

Leonard can only think to express his apprehension with one phrase: "_God help me._"

* * *

God doesn't help Leonard. God has abandoned him to the wiles of James T. Kirk.

Jim is proudly holding out Leonard's new sleeping pillow. A dumbfounded Leonard is staring at it. Jim, in his impatience, nearly pushes it on top of him.

"I can't sleep with this," Leonard chokes out.

"Why not?" Kirk wants to know. "You sleep with me."

"But this is..."

"And so now you can sleep with two of me!"

"...creepy. _Creepy_, Jim," Leonard reiterates. He can't stop looking at the printed face on the pillow cover.

Jim flops down onto the bed beside him, still talking. "You can squeeze me all you want, and you can't break me!"

"With the added bonus that it inflates your ego? I don't think so, Jim." Leonard tries to push the pillow away.

Jim rolls onto his side and gives Leonard a very hurt look, trapping the pillow between them. "Are you rejecting me?"

"Yes, I reject the idea of sleeping with a pillow with your face on it."

"It's a body pillow—for your whole body," supplies Jim helpfully.

"Kid," sighs Leonard, "I can honestly say there are moments when I don't want to know how your brain works."

Jim drapes Leonard's arm over the pillow. "Computer, lights off. Good night, Bones," he singsongs.

"Damn it, Jim!"

Leonard's companion pretends to drop off to sleep immediately. Leonard doesn't buy it. He is tempted to strangle the fool but the pillow remains between them like a barrier.

The pillow.

Leonard wraps his other arm around it and squeezes as hard as he can. It bends in half. He bites the back of it.

But then he realizes he cannot destroy the damn thing. It's a gift. It's a ridiculous but ironically thoughtful sort of gift.

Leonard's teeth release the cover, and he flips it around to look at Jim's smirking captain face. Leonard presses his face against it.

Stupid Jim.

Why did he ever fall in love with his best friend?

* * *

_Six months later, i.e. The Epilogue_

Leonard awakens when someone rudely shoves his shoulder. Because he is of half a mind to ignore the unspoken command, he presses his face into the body pillow in his arms, keeps his eyes closed, and mumbles, "Go away."

"Bones."

"I mean it, Jim."

"Boooones. Bones!"

Leonard rolls off his stomach, still clutching the pillow, and drags his head back far enough to snarl at his partner.

He's greeted with Spock's face instead.

With a shriek, he flings the Spock-face away from him. It takes him a moment too long to realize he has actually been terrified by his own pillow cover.

Jim is grinning at him from the safety of the other side of the bed. He picks up the rejected item from the floor and holds it up. "Surprise!" he says.

"My god, Jim, are you trying to kill me?! I could have had a heart attack!"

Jim crawls onto the bed and places the pillow beside Leonard again. "It's just Spock."

"_It's just Sp—_" Leonard starts to mimic and stops. He draws his eyebrows together. "Wait a minute. _Why_ is Spock's face on my pillow? Where's my other one?" He twists around to look for it, strangely a little more upset than he should be at the thought of losing it. (Which, he surmises, can only mean that he's lost his mind.)

"I can answer your questions, Bones. First, I am very flattered that you love your Jim pillow. It's still here—only improved!" Jim flips the Spock pillow around to prove that his face is on the other side.

Leonard puts a hand over his eyes, thinking that he should have known better than to date a twenty-something year-old infant.

"And second, I'm just taking the initiative here."

At that explanation, Jim has lost him.

"Initiative for what?"

Jim pats the top of the pillow like he might actually be patting the Vulcan's head. "Bones, you can't fool me. I'm un-foolable."

"If anybody's fooling around right now, kid, it's you. You stuck a Spock face on my pillow because you think it's funny. Well I don't think it's funny!"

God, this is his day off. Why is he dealing with this on his day off?

Jim sits back and crosses his legs, looking as though he intends to stay put on the bed for some time.

"You have duty," Leonard reminds him.

"I switched shifts with Spock."

_That hobgoblin again,_ thinks Leonard. He resists the urge to lie back down and pull the covers over his head. Apparently Jim has something on his mind that he wants to discuss—and taking the morning off means he will hold Leonard hostage until they've talked it through.

"Great," Leonard mutters to no one in particular. Then, to Jim, "Let me guess... I have a Spock pillow because you think I like him."

"You _do_ like him."

"You're out of your cotton-pickin' mind!"

It would be so easy to bridge the gap between them and poke Jim in the shoulder. Leonard balls up the covers in his hands instead.

"Are you saying you're okay with me liking somebody else? Correct me if I'm wrong but I thought we were together—as in you and me, not me and somebody else."

Jim sits the pillow up between them. "I am saying that I am absolutely okay with the fact that you like my First Officer. Also," here Jim squishes the pillow to his chest, "I'm fond of him too." His vivid blue eyes look much too innocent. "Unless you tell me that you prefer Spock over me. Then I'm going to rip his face off, bangs and all."

"...Rip his face off the pillow, you mean?" Leonard clarifies.

"Nope."

"Jim, as some sort of cruel and unusual punishment to myself I've decided that I love you, but don't for a moment think I won't sign you up for a psych eval if I believe that you need one."

"Aw, I love you too, Bones. Which is why I'm giving you another pillow buddy."

"Jim..."

Jim leans forward and takes Leonard's hand. "Do you trust me?"

Damn, he's going to answer that truthfully, isn't he? "Against all reason."

"Good," says Jim. "Then don't worry about a thing. I have a plan."

The flash across Leonard's face is amused panic. "That's not very comforting. Do I need to warn Spock?"

"Warning him won't do any good." Jim returns the Spock pillow to Leonard's arms. "But if it makes you feel better, you can hug this pillow."

"Which side?"

Jim smiles. "That's the beauty of it, Bones. Why choose when you can have both?"

Leonard closes his eyes and slowly opens them again before quipping dryly, "Just what I always wanted... two morons to irritate me."

"Life is good," Jim agrees, obviously pleased with himself.

Leonard shows Jim his middle finger and stubbornly tries to go back to sleep, the Spock-Jim pillow tucked under his arm.

Tomorrow, he thinks, he can talk some sense into the man.

_-Fini_


End file.
